Things People Ask Before Booking

No. Around half of any month's guests are here for the first time, and most of them say some version of this in the front room, usually while holding the glass of water with both hands. There is nothing to get right — you lie on a table and someone who has done this for years does the rest. The nerves tend to last until roughly the second shoulder stroke, and not much past it.

Whatever you had on that day. You shower and change into a robe when you arrive, so nobody is grading the outfit — turn up knackered in a crumpled shirt and it makes no difference whatsoever. Bring nothing; towels, robe and shower things are here. The one genuinely useful tip: skip the aftershave. You will only wash it off.

There are no lines to read between — that is rather the point of this site. What is on offer is massage: tantric, sensual, body to body, four hands, nuru, couples, each described plainly on its own page. What is not on offer is anything beyond massage — no sexual services, and the guest does not touch the therapist. Both hold for every session, every therapist and every guest, and neither is negotiable in the room. If that is not the evening you had in mind, better to know now, from your own sofa.

Because there is none. No card machine in any of the rooms, no payment link — it is cash on the day or a bank transfer beforehand, whichever suits. The figure is the one on her card, and it covers the whole booking: room, oils, towels, the full time. Nothing gets settled up afterwards, so there is no awkward moment at the end fishing for a wallet while still half in a robe.

Honestly — the Tube wins. Every district we use sits inside or hard against the congestion zone, street parking is metered and thin, and the car parks will cost you a fair few quid and most of your patience. Each room is a short walk from a station; Paddington, Baker Street and Sloane Square were picked partly for exactly that. The entrance is always an ordinary shared doorway with no sign, and exact directions, down to which buzzer, come with the confirmation.

A message with a day's notice costs nothing, and the first same-day cancellation costs nothing either — evenings blow up, we know, we live here too. Studio bookings are not prepaid, so there is nothing to claw back. The exceptions are four hands and outcalls to airports or the far side of town, which are held with a deposit; cancel those inside 24 hours and the deposit stays behind.

Yes — anywhere in London, airports included: Heathrow, Gatwick, Luton, Stansted, City. The therapist brings the folding table, oils and towels in one case, the table goes up in about ten minutes, and it all leaves with her at the end. For most of the therapists the outcall rate is the same as her studio rate; long distances and late hours get agreed in the enquiry, in writing, before you commit. Outcalls run 90 minutes minimum, because half of anything shorter would be setup.

Not dead, just shorter. The room is yours until the time the booking was due to end, because the therapist's evening does not stretch. Twenty minutes late into a ninety still makes a decent session; twenty minutes late into a sixty mostly buys you a shower and half a massage, and we would rather rebook you. Message ahead if you are running behind — sometimes the diary allows a shuffle.

You pick — the whole place is built that way. Sixteen therapists, each with her own card and her own rate, and the form asks who you want. If she is not free at your time, we say so and offer another slot, not a stranger at a matching price. Swapping quietly and hoping you will not notice is a thing some places do. Not here.

A glass or two, no. Properly drunk, yes — the session depends on you being able to feel what is happening and say so, and a drunk guest can do neither. If the therapist judges you are past the line, the session does not start, and there is no arguing it on the doorstep. If dinner is looking ambitious, book tomorrow instead. We are here until eleven.